


The Battle is Won

by Chash



Series: If You Can Hold On [3]
Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-21
Updated: 2017-11-21
Packaged: 2019-02-04 23:04:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,062
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12781560
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chash/pseuds/Chash
Summary: Clarke knows she's going to stop feeling inexperienced at some point, and she doesn't even think it's going to take long. But she's impatient, and she's tired of feeling like it's a big deal.So it's not going to be. She can figure it out.





	The Battle is Won

In theory, Clarke understands Bellamy's _enthusiastic sex only_ policy. If she was dating someone, she wouldn't want them to be interested in sex only to get it out of the way.

But, of course, that isn't really what's happening with her, which is part of why she's struggling with the whole thing. She's interested in sex with Bellamy specifically for a number of reasons, including that he's hot and she's definitely falling in love with him, but despite how much she enjoys what they've done so far, there's still this mental hurdle she can't get past, this last societal block.

She doesn't know how to be sure, and after a month of amazing-but-non-PIV sex, she figures the best option is to bring it up again. 

"We need to have another sex talk."

"We do?" he asks, and she scowls at him. "Seriously, we're having awesome sex. I'm good with it. And I get if the next step needs to take longer. Or even if it never comes."

Confusion softens her scowl into something more like a frown. "Really?"

They're on the couch, having just finished a movie on Netflix, and Bellamy shifts a little, awkward, as if he's been rehearsing this conversation. Knowing him, he probably has been. "So, uh—I felt like a total failure the first time I dated a guy. I was really new to bisexuality, and I liked him, and hand jobs and blow jobs were fun, but anal was kind of intimidating. It just sounded—" He shrugs. "Messy and probably painful and maybe not worth the effort. But as long as we weren't doing that, I felt like it was—like I was being immature, I guess."

Clarke settles in against his side, snuggling up. It's strange to compare Bellamy now to the Bellamy she knew when she was younger, the cocky, kind of brash guy who never seemed that interested in his own feelings, let alone anyone else's. It's always nice to see how he's grown up, how considerate and thoughtful he's become. "Immature how?"

"Real queer guys do anal," he says, with a twist of his mouth. "If I didn't, I wasn't having _real_ sex."

"So, did you do it?"

"No. The guy I was with never brought it up, and finally I got drunk and asked him. He said he didn't really like it, which seemed like a pretty good indication I shouldn't base my worth as a queer guy on how I felt about it."

"Did you ever try it?" she asks, curious. "Or still no?"

"Yeah, a few years later. I'm fine with it, but—I like sex basically all the time, and I like doing things my partner's into. It doesn't do that much for me personally, but it doesn't have to. If they're happy, I'm happy. At least with everything I've tried so far."

"It just—it doesn't even make _sense_ ," she huffs. "It's not like I don't like—I'm into penetration, I'm into you, I don't see why I'm so nervous about it."

He catches her mouth for a kiss. "Okay, so—let's talk it through."

"Or we could just have sex," she says.

"I promise we can have sex after we talk if you want. But I'd feel better if we talked through whatever was bothering you before we jumped in."

"You're a really good guy, you know that?" she asks, smiling.

"This is pretty baseline goodness," he points out. "All I'm doing is making sure you're feeling good about everything. Anyone worth dating would do that."

"I am. Feeling good." She closes her eyes. "I think I'm just—it feels like such a big deal. I don't know how to make myself believe it's not."

"Well, it is. Just not how you think. It's a big deal because it's awesome, okay?"

She has to smile. "Awesome?"

He bites the corner of his mouth, looking down at her with warm eyes. "I assume it's not news that I like you a lot. That's a big deal, not the sex thing. If you never want to have any more sex than we're having, I'll be happy." His expression turns hot, and he looks her up and down. "Not that I don't want to fuck you. But—"

It's impossible not to kiss him then, and the kiss is wet and hot and hungry, his hands pushing under her shirt to skate up her skin. Clarke shivers, presses in closer, sliding into his lap to straddle him. 

Her shirt's off before she thinks to ask, "What happened to wanting to talk?"

"We can talk with your shirt off. Are you worried you're not going to like it?'

He's kissing her jaw, which makes it hard to think. "Not really."

"That you won't be good at it?"

"A little."

"That it's going to hurt?"

"Not for long." She wets her lips. "I just can't stop—overthinking it. I feel like I'm not sure enough."

His smile turns rueful. "Because I told you that you couldn't just do it to get it over with?"

"You were right. That would have been shitty.”

He looks her up and down. "Do you want to?"

It’s easy. “Yeah, I do.”

He exhales. “That’s as sure as I need you to be. I need you to want it, and to want it to be with me.”

“Yeah, there’s definitely no one else.” She wets her lips, feels stupid even asking, but now is the time. “What if I get pregnant?”

He frowns. “Are you on birth control?”

“No. I wasn’t having sex, I never needed it before.” She looks away. “I’m not saying this is why I didn’t have sex before, but—“

“I wouldn’t want to get pregnant either, if I were you.” He tugs her down for another kiss. “Condoms are pretty effective, but we can wait until you get on another form of birth control if you want.”

“You really are cool with this,” she says, with some wonder. It doesn’t seem possible.

“I’m happy,” he says, as if it’s that simple. And it probably should be, but Clarke can’t stop worrying. “I’m pretty confident I’m going to get the sex I want out of this relationship, at some point. And the relationship I want.”

“And what are those?”

He worries his lip. “Right now? I’m thinking you in my bed as many nights as I can get you. Hopefully every night, someday.”

“That sounds pretty good,” she admits, and when she leans down to kiss him this time it’s softer, slower. “Okay, so—sex.”

“Sex.”

“You have condoms?”

“Yeah. And I’ve never had a condom fail to prevent pregnancy, as far as I know.”

She frowns. “As far as you know?”

“I’ve had some one-night stands. One of them could have gotten pregnant. I wouldn’t have known.”

"And that doesn't bother you?"

He thinks it over, apparently for the first time, which is unreal to Clarke. It's not that she thinks everyone is thinking about pregnancy every time they hook up, but—apparently it's a big hurdle for her. It feels like the worst thing that could happen to her, which probably isn't what all those sex ed classes about how important sex is were trying to teach her. But it's not like she didn't know those were bullshit.

"I don't think I ever slept with someone who has absolutely no way of getting in touch with me," Bellamy finally says. "So if they wanted me to be involved, they could have let me know. And I'm hoping if they actually had kids, they'd hit me up for child support. So—" He shrugs. "You're right, I can't be sure I don't have a kid out there. But I think it's unlikely." He shoots her a smile. "I can't believe I didn't hit pregnancy when I was thinking of reasons you'd be nervous."

"Shut up."

"Hey, I don't mean it in a bad way. I was definitely—" He scratches his chin. "I think if I hadn't started having sex when I was a teenager, it would probably bother me more. But when you're a seventeen-year-old guy, it's easy to think pregnancy is something that happens to other people."

"It was, it was something that happened to the people you had sex with," she points out, and he smiles.

"You know what I mean. I wanted to get laid, I used protection, I figured it would be okay. And now it's just—like you said, _I'm_ not going to get pregnant."

She finds herself smiling too. "You're totally worrying about it now, aren't you?"

"Maybe we shouldn't have sex until we've been together for, like, five years, and we're committed, and we've agreed to adopt, and I can get a vasectomy."

"You came up with that one amazingly quickly."

"Best way to be sure."

"I don't need to be _sure_ ," she says. "Just sure enough."

"If you get pregnant, we'll figure it out," he says. "And, like I said, if you want to wait until you're on birth control, I don't care. Our sex life is awesome as it is. And it's just getting better."

"Seriously, you can't be _this_ chill."

"We've been dating for like two months. It feels like a huge deal to you because it's something you haven't done. But I've had relationships where we take it slow before." His thumb strokes her side, and his expression goes impossibly soft. "I want this to last, Clarke. I'm crazy about you, okay? I've never—this is uncharted territory for me too," he admits. "Being this serious about someone."

"Oh," she says.

"So, yeah, I can be chill about this. I don't fucking care, I just want you."

He looks so genuine that suddenly it's easy. It's not that everything will always be perfect, it's that she trusts him and they both want this. This relationship, each other, everything. He wants to keep her too.

She leans down and kisses him. "I want you too. And I also want you to fuck me. Like, now."

That makes him laugh. "It's going to be a lot more comfortable in the bedroom. After some foreplay. But whatever you want, yeah."

"You," she says, smiling. "Just you."

"You've got me." He gives her a gentle push. "Come on. The condoms are in there too."

For the most part, Clarke doesn't feel nervous in Bellamy's bed anymore. She spends a few nights a week there, and part of her feels as if she shouldn't want to be there as much as she does. It's only been two months, and she's already in so deep. She adores him, and she thought it might just be the novelty, liking having a boyfriend, at long last.

But he's never felt this way either. It's a big deal for him too.

"I assume I'm just getting naked," he remarks, watching as she stretches out on the bed.

"Sorry. I heard undressing people was hot, but it mostly seems a lot less efficient than getting naked on your own."

"Yeah, I don't mind." She watches as he unbuttons his shirt, throwing it aside, and then gets rid of his pants and boxers. It's never hard to be attracted to him—he's kind of unbelievably attractive, honestly—but there's still a twinge of nerves that comes with it, too. She's still not used to dating, still sure she's going to fuck it up.

He grabs lube and a condom and puts them on the bedside table, flopping next to her with a smile. "If you change your mind, it's fine, I just don't want to have to get up again if we end up wanting those." He slides his hand under the band of her bra, teasing. "Your turn?"

She strips out of her own clothes quickly, and once she's done, he's kissing her again, wet and hot, and Clarke pulls him on top of her, her hands roving over his back. This part tends to be easy, her body on autopilot and Bellamy happy to be in control. And it's the best kind of easy, the kind where if she could just turn off that last part of her brain that worries she's going to fuck up, she wouldn't have a single issue.

Bellamy kisses down her throat. "Going to get you off first," he murmurs.

It's hard to object to. "If you really want."

He looks up long enough to grin at her. "As always, I want you to enjoy yourself. And I'd be lying if I said I didn't want you to want to do this a lot. So we better do it right."

"Me too," she admits. "I think about it all the time, it's getting kind of inconvenient."

"I can't promise this is going to help," he teases. "I've had sex before and I still think about you all the time. But if you ever want to try to fuck it out of our systems—"

"Maybe some weekend no one will miss us," she muses, tugging him back up for another kiss. He compromises on kissing her whole body and switches to groping instead, hands rough on her skin, and she still can't believe she got this lucky.

"I'm still planning to try to wear you out tonight," he says. "Any preferences?"

“Dealer’s choice,” she says, and he laughs, slides his hand between her legs and starts stroking with a purpose that makes her heart trip. He doesn’t always work this quickly, will draw it out plenty of times, but she suspects he’s eager to get to the main event.

Which is reassuring. She gets that he’d wait as long as she wanted to wait, but it’s nice to know he wants to do this.

It’s going to be good. She’s so sure.

He gets her off twice with his fingers, and then he pulls back, searching her face. “Are you sure you want to do this? We don’t have to. Vaginal sex isn’t going anywhere, it can wait.”

She laughs, curls her fingers in his hair and pulls him back in to kiss her. “Please,” she says, and that’s all he needs.

It’s impossible to not be a little nervous, but it’s the good kind of nerves, anticipation more than anxiety. And Bellamy’s probably right: these are the kind of nerves she’d always have, her first time fucking someone. He’s probably nervous too.

“Tell me if I should stop or slow down or—just keep me posted,” he tells her. “There’s no stage of this where we can’t stop.”

“Bellamy,” she says, fond. “I want to. I'm good.”

“I know. Just saying.” He exhales, and it’s her turn to pull him back, kissing him until he relaxes, until she feels him line himself up.

It’s not an unfamiliar sensation, having something pressing inside her. She’s done this before with toys, and while the specific feeling is different, her reactions are the same.

Bellamy’s forehead is on her shoulder, and she kisses his hair, reassuring. “That’s good,” she murmurs. “Feels so good.”

"Yeah," he murmurs, breathing out slowly. "Fuck, Clarke. You're—"

"You're pretty amazing too," she tells him, and kisses his jaw. "You can move."

"In a sec. Just—getting used to it." He leans in to catch her mouth, starting to roll his hips slowly.

It's not as smooth as when she does it herself, less intense than working with a vibrator, but close and hot and personal in a way nothing has been before, Bellamy's breath hot on her neck as he thrusts, and the pleasure builds in her slow and steady, hot and perfect and so good until it becomes too much, and she's pressing back against him, desperate to come.

"Come on, Clarke," Bellamy says, voice rough. "You're amazing, I want to feel—"

She gasps and arches, orgasm rushing through her, and she feels Bellamy's own movements go fast and uneven in his desperation. Her fingers tighten against his back, hard enough she'll probably leave marks, but Bellamy doesn't seem to mind. He comes with a groan, thrusting into her, and she'll admit she's looking forward to trying this some time when he's not wearing a condom, when she can feel all of him.

There's a moment of heavy breathing, recovery, and then Bellamy regains his breath and rolls off her with a soft laugh. "So, uh—was that okay?"

Clarke laughs, rolling into him and kissing his chest. "That was fine, yeah. Amazing."

"I thought so, yeah." He laughs, tugs her in close. "In the morning, I'm going to tell you something," he says.

"In the morning?"

"Yeah."

"Not now?"

"Nah. Now I'm going to tie off the condom and go to sleep. Unless you want another orgasm."

"I don't think I've got another in me. Bed sounds good." 

He shoots her a smug grin before he rolls away from her and off the bed. "I thought so."

She props herself up to watch him as he cleans up, appreciating the hard lines of muscle. He's perfect, and he's hers.

"So, you feel okay?" he adds, glancing over his shoulder "Not—I know it was good, but you're fine with everything?"

"I'm good, yeah." She closes her eyes, stretching out over the bed, feeling boneless and content and warm. "In the morning, I might even want to do it again. After whatever you have to say."

He laughs. "I could live with that."

In the morning, he makes her breakfast and they do the crossword puzzle, and only after that does she remember to ask, "What were you going to tell me?"

He ducks his head, flushing. "I didn't want this to be about, uh, sex, so that's why I didn't want to say it last night." He smiles, shrugs one shoulder. "I love you. I've just—I've been thinking it for weeks, I didn't want it to be too soon, but—"

There's nothing to do but lean over and kiss him. "I love you too. Want to have sex again?"

"Getting started on getting it out of our systems?" he teases.

"Or you're just really good in bed."

"Or that." He offers his hand. "Only one way to find out, right?"

She lets him pull her up and into a kiss, laughing, and she has to say, as first times having sex go, she can't imagine much better.

"Right," she says. "Let's do it."


End file.
